


Worship

by precipitously (anaideia)



Category: Naruto, Rapunzel (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaideia/pseuds/precipitously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in her tower, the woman with hair as long as a lifetime worships only the passing of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worship

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This is my first fic on this site. I've only used fanfiction.net until now, so this fic is sort of a test run? I hope I did everything right!
> 
> Anyway, Chapter 1 contains the original ending I had planned for the story when the idea first came to me. Then, when I actually looked up the story and read a few variations, the parallel was too good and I had to write another ending. Chapter 2 is a continuation or alternate ending. It begins exactly where Chapter 1 leaves off.

_There was a woman with hair the color of cherry blossoms. There was a man with a heart as black as the branches. And just as flowers fall away from their trees, she too scattered herself to the wind._

**I.**

_A man and a woman stand still, electric blade to slender neck, slicing palm to exposed chest, silhouettes backlit golden by the setting sun. In a tremolo of wing beats, a group of crows takes off from the surrounding trees._

_“Let me take your burden,” the woman says at last. The teal of her eyes are placid and her voice is steady._

_The man says nothing, smoldering. Finally, he drops his weapon and shoves the woman against a tree, shoves his lips into hers. She leans into a wedge in the trunk and gasps, needing no words to open herself to him. Moaning as his hands pry into her, grip tight enough to snap bones, touch rough and cold as stone. Years and years have been leading to this, and it is not wonderful, but she devours every second hungrily. Years and years she has waited, and she does not care anymore if this is for hers or for his sake. The evening passes, shared in desperate breaths and cautious ecstasy._

_While she sleeps, he builds a tower up from under her, encircling her in silk and moonlight, and illuminating the work of art that he’s bruised into her skin. Beautiful night blooming like black lilies in a field of white. Standing between his woman and the window frame he has created for her, he unfurls a large scroll. That night, blanketed in the man’s shadow, the woman dreams of unending loneliness and hatred._

_When he has finished the ritual, he sits down beside her panting, solemnly guarding her tired body until dawn. As the sky’s color begins to change, he leans down and whispers to closed eyelids, “Wait here for nine months. Grow your hair long. When I return, let it down from the window and we will be together again."_

_He doesn’t need to hear her response. He knows that she has heard him and he knows that she will obey. He is on the windowsill before the woman’s eyes flutter open in alarm, and halfway to the horizon before she can open her mouth._

_She sighs, wondering how it was that he made her so slow to react. She moves a hand to her abdomen. There are, of course, no physical signs on the surface yet, but her expert hands need none. A child has just begun to grow inside of her, a child that will continue to bear the burden of its father. The woman stands and looks down at her stomach. She almost laughs when she realizes. The symbols around her navel swirl in a sinister dance and she feels a rumbling in her womb, an ancient power struggling to break its seal. What a man she had given her heart to who would make a demon of his own child._

_As she steps toward the window, she closes her eyes. Imprinted on her eyelids is the image of his back, a web of scratches, her last plea for him to stay. She reaches the opening and looks down. She is at the top of a stone tower, maybe nine stories high. Below her, the forest is awakening commanded by the morning’s light and at the base of the tower, a peculiar plant grows, tall and spiny with thick stems flecked with burgundy. She can’t tell for sure from her height the exact species, but she’s willing to make a bet._

_“Little fox,” she chimes. “Won’t you lend me some aid in growing my hair? As long as your nine tails connected end to end.”_

 

 

**II.**

The sun sets, and the man wakes from his slumber, strangely serpentine in slowness, willing each joint to move as though the body weren’t all his. The crackling of bones ripples through the trees like the song of a dying bird. He has reached the forest where his woman waits for him and only a night’s journey to the tower remains.

For the past nine months he has devastated the lands surrounding his birthplace, earning for himself a reputation so terrifying that even the wildlife keeps its distance. He is silent and the world is silent around him as he treads toward his prize, the power that he needs to destroy the village that destroyed what he loved most. The sun is rising as he steps into the clearing where the tower looms above the trees.

“I am here," he calls.

A nude figure floats to the window with the elegant poise she developed solely to face him the last time they met. She smiles down at him warmly. Her body is a ripe fruit, belly round, breasts swollen, and he blinks, wondering why, standing in the frame of the window, she looks like a painting of something divine.

“Welcome back,” she says. “I have done as you asked of me.” 

“I know you have.” 

She leans against the windowsill, roseate hair wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. After a pause, she says, “You put a demon inside of me.” There is boredom in her voice, as though she were speaking of the most casual occurrence.

“I did. And do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

“Then let down your hair.” 

She does so, first wrapping her hair around the hook beneath the window. Then she flings the rest outward allowing it to unravel in waves of sunset. It hangs, just brushing the weeds before his feet.

He climbs, and she watches him, minty eyes smooth as water. When he is near enough, she leans forward, holding a hand out to him. He reaches for it and in that instant something inside of her shatters, cool gaze replaced by the eyes of an abandoned young girl, the pained eyes of a woman sacrificing her everything for a greater everything. In one swift motion, she uses her palm to chop through the thick cord of hair, slashing his left eye in the process. He falls, making no effort to stop himself. Those eyes are the same eyes he saw on his brother years ago.

As he waits to hit the ground, he watches her hurdle out the window following him, stray hairs billowing out around her like a firework. He can’t help but think that he is watching something rare and sublime, the self-destruction of a goddess who loved too much. 

The corner of his lip quivers up into an arrogant grin. “What a fucking cunt,” he thinks. And then the crunching of his skull turns the whole world red.

**XX**


	2. Epilogue (Alternative Ending)

_There was a girl with eyes the color of dawn and hair the color of dusk. There was a boy who had the sharpest eyes, but he could never see the sun on the horizon._

**III.**

Everything is fire. His skin, his eyes, everything burns. Some sort of hellish energy surrounds him. He can’t move. The world is a blur. And then it is still. 

He is aware only of light and dark, and the occasional wet cloth being placed on his forehead. He shivers uncontrollably. Once, he hears his woman screaming. Not long after, she is singing a lullaby. Days pass, maybe weeks. Eventually, the burning recedes, and his skin feels like molting scales. He opens his eyes, head clear for the first time since falling. 

It is daytime. Cautiously, he sits up and looks down at his hands. He can’t see them. 

“You’re awake.” It is her voice. 

He doesn’t respond. 

“Things didn’t go as planned. The fox didn’t want to die, I guess. And I didn’t want you to die… I guess.” She stops and touches her forehead to his. “Good. Your fever is gone.”

He remains silent. 

“I’m sure you’re curious, so I’ll explain. You landed in hogweed. It’s a plant that causes severe skin irritation. If it gets in your eyes, it causes blindness. I fixed your bones and internal organs and I was able to prevent any permanent damage to your skin, but your eyes are gone for good.” There is no small amount of bitterness in her voice, but it’s tinged with something tender, something like hope.

“Thank you,” he says after a while. 

“Your burden is gone now. What will you do without your eyes?”

He takes a deep breath. It feels like his first. “I’m not sure.” 

So she takes his hand in hers. It is soft and strong and steady. 

“Come meet your son,” she says. And for the first time in their lives, he is the one following without question. His steps are shaky, but she leads him across what he guesses is their campsite, and somehow he feels safer than he ever has. They stop as he hears a small gurgle. She lets go of his hand and asks him to hold his arms out. He hears some shuffling, and then there is something warm touching him. The presence fills his world with brightness.

He holds the infant steady in one arm and cautiously uses the other to find the baby’s head, running his hand across satiny hair, and tiny eyelashes. Clammy fingers tug at his arm, and he hears a giggle. “What does he look like?” he asks. 

“He has blonde hair like the sun, and blue eyes like the sky,” she tells him. 

“We are complete,” he says slowly. “He is day. I am night. You are twilight which binds us together.”

“Then let’s go home together.” Her arms are around him, a shield, and he is a boy again, chasing his brother in the darkness. “Do you choose vengeance or do you choose forgiveness?” she asks. His brother is pointing ahead. There it is. The tiniest hint of sunrise growing larger in the distance. “Do you choose darkness or do you finally see?” His brother disappears and he takes toward the sun at a sprint.

A crow cries somewhere nearby. “I choose light.” 

**XX**

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that in the story of Rapunzel, there is supposed to be a hook under the window for her to wrap her hair around? The story makes so much more sense now that I know she doesn’t just have like a steel neck or something.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


End file.
